Everyone has an instrument that represents their personality/soul, and their future job. Through life, everyone has a task to find it. Some have violins, those melancholic and strict types; some trumpets, loud and cheerful, ready to party anytime. You’ve recently discovered that your instrument is a kazoo.
You walk into a room and someone hands you your soul instrument. You look down at your hand and frown.
“A kazoo? This has to be a joke.”
You look back up and the person shops you away.
“Leave, (Y/N).”
You shrug and start to leave when suddenly, you realize you don’t know their name.
You slowly turn on your heel as you face them again.
“Waait a minute…”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Who are you?”
kitthesortingwhatnow 